A stench like an old bog. The taste of dank earth on lips and tongue. A cackle like the crack of a whip. A hag stands in front of her home, her gaze fixed on you. One eye—pure white—sits like a dead moon in the pale flesh of her drawn face. A small breeze rattles the wind chimes hanging about her windows, collections of small bones strung together with dark thread. Similar adornments hang about her neck and from her ears. In her gnarled hand, she grips a long-tined fork.
~ Played by Spac3cowboyy
